S(uper)BURB
by Archemedies
Summary: Four young heroes, each operating independently, are forced to unite against a militarized force hoping to throw to Washington D.C into anarchy. Now, with armed soldiers patrolling the streets, Machine gun mounted Jeeps speeding the through the roads, and a mysterious mob boss named English after their heads, they must come together to protect their home. Or die trying.
1. Chapter 1: The Whirlwind

**A/N: Hey there guys and gals, Archimedies here with the first chapter of a pretty random Homestuck story. I haven't written for a criminally long time, and so I thought I'd come with something not too taxing on the old creativity nodes. So I decided to start up a short story centered around the homestuck characters as super heroes. Cause why not. On another note, I need to know. Does anyone actually care about my RWBY/FNAF series? Cause if so, I'll continue it. If not, I'll forget it. But for now, enjoy this short story, beginning now. Go ahead and review if you give a shit.**

Chapter 1: The Whirlwind.

Two men stood together by the entrance to a warehouse. One lit a cigarette with a sudden spark in the darkness. Silence fell again. Until the other spoke up.

"Fuck me, it's cold today. The hell's been up with the weather lately?"

"The fuck are you asking me for. I ain't no weather man"

"Fuck you J. The weather men ain't shit anyway"

"Yeah, twenty seven degrees my ass."

"Hmph. You fuckin said it. 'Ey, I'm gonna go check on the product. You good out here?"

"Yeah man. Hey, can I bum a cig?"

"Sure"

With that, he handed his comrade a cigarette, and walked inside, clanking the door shut behind himself. "J" patted himself down for a lighter, and lit his cig. And frowned as a sudden gust blew the ash off it, putting it out. He frowned and grunted, looking for his lighter. As he looked up from his pockets, he came face to face with a thin figure.

"That's bad for you. But then, so is this"

"J" opened his mouth to shout for help, but a pressurised blast of wind slammed into his chest and threw him against the warehouse as he heard his ribs snap. He slumped into a sitting position, and a battered sneaker slammed into the side of his head, laying him out flat.

His assailant looked down for a second, before grinning to himself, and giving a snort. John made his way into the warehouse, cracking his knuckles and rolling his head on his neck, readying himself. A quick trip through a corridor. And he was in the warehouse proper, where several men where gathered around a car, the trunk popped to reveal several bags packed with white powder.

"Good lord you guys. First cigarettes, and now cocaine? You are out of control"

There was a series of shoutings and shrieks from the gangsters before they all formed up and faced him, bearing several improvised weapons. Tire irons, baseball bats and knives.

"Oh come on. I'm just trying to give you a little bit of advice"

They spread out in a rough semi-circle, and all the mobsters looking to their leader.

"'Ey boss, what should we do?"

The boss flicked a butterfly knife open and closed, praying his men couldn't see the tremor in his legs as he faced off with the blue robed apparition.

"Uh, uh. Oh shit. Ah, ah fucking kill him?"

At the less then direct order they shifted on their feet.

"Yeah! Fucking kill him!"

They rushed him, and he cracked his neck.

The first man reached him, and he ducked the bat, bringing the air benath himself, and slamming a knee upwards, catching him in the stomach. He gave an explosive gasp, and collapsed, three more rushing to take on the newcomer.

John pressed his hands together, and snapped them outwards, throwing a flurry of dirt and gravel up at them, scouring their eyes and clogging their mouths. As they spluttered and coughed, he leapt forward, downing one of them with an air aided haymaker that cracked his jaw. The remaining two were thrown to the floor with a spinning kick that whipped the air across them like a blade, slamming them to the ground with the thud of skulls on concrete.

"And then then were two"

John strolled up to the car, smiling widely. The boss and his bodyguard stood for a second.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get him! That's what I pay you for!"

The bodyguard shook his head, hefted a length of pipe, and walked slowly to meet him.

"You don't look too enthusiastic?"

"Would you be?"

"Fair point"

The pipe came down, and he brought the air around his arms, dancing out the way with grace. Before slamming both hands foward, hitting him with a blast so strong he hurtled through the air and slammed into the car, denting it deeply.

The boss reached into his pocket, pulling out a small revolver, and John leapt into the air.

"What the fuck..."

The mobster opened fire, and John darted backwards and forwards, bullets hissing past him as the sound of gunshots filled the warehouse. A shot snaked past his ear, and the gun clicked empty. He turned to run for the car, and John darted downwards, slamming his feet into his back, sending him face first into the boot of the car, knocking him out cold. John dropped to the ground, and strode up the car, pulling his phone out of his pocket. One anonymous tip later, and the police where on their way, and John was flying over the skyline, basking in the wake of another successful bust.

He hadn't been doing this long.

But he could probably get used to it.


	2. Chapter 2: The Occultist

**A/N: Hey there guys and gals, Archimedies here with the second chapter of this story. I don't really have anything to say, so just enjoy. Review if you want, it really helps make me want to do more, favorite and follow if you want to see more. Peace.**

Chapter 2: The Occultist.

Lightining sparked and arced across the clouds, rain pelting the roof of the near deserted office building. A single lamp shone upon the a young girl, sitting at a desk, thumbing through a dusty, decrepit tome, painted with strange glyphs and diagrams of elditch creatures. The darkness seemed to swirl around her, tiny motes of light fluttering. A bank of computer screens had been set up on a desk opposite her, showing views from the many cameras set up around the building. Most of the complex was empty, as she only tended to use the top floors, along with the adjoining warehouse to house any artifacts that needed storing. Or, more often then not, hiding. Due to this excess of space, a multitude of the homeless, poor and destitute had set up in the available space.

She was on quite good terms with them, they didn't ask what she was doing, and in return they got most of the building as living space, and she was always good for some change and a cup of tea if you caught her in the right mood. She watched as one of the cameras on the lowest level gave a warning beep, indicating someone had moved within its radius. Some would say she was paranoid, but they weren't in the position she was. Not by a long shot.

She glanced across, noting it was just Rick. He had laid claim to that particular section of the office, on the ground floor by one of the side entrances. It happened to be the one she used most often, and she would often stop to chat whenever she came by, and hand him some change and perhaps some pastry goods to share with the looked up at the camera, and waved before sitting down on his sleeping bag. She nodded the camera in response. She turned back to her books, but a second beep dragged her back to the screens. This one was from a camera view just outside the door Rick slept by.

She watched with a worried frown as a black van pulled up by the door. And that frown turned to a grimace as a set of armed men in black body suits piled out of it, night vision goggles atop their heads and compact, vicious looking submachine guns, silenced barrels searching the air for threats.

From the ways they moved, and the way they scanned the area, they had to be ex military, probably spec-ops. She felt a chill of terror go down her spine, what had she done that could have the local spooks knocking at her door? Actually, scratch that. She'd done plenty. She slammed her books shut, and activated to the audio on the cameras.

"Fox trot, blow the door"

One of them stepped up, with a long barreled weapon at the ready. Probably a shotgun. He pressed it against the lock, and when it fired, the only sound was a slight cough, and snapping metal. Silenced shotguns?She'd thought they didn't even exist. Definitely spec-ops. She began gathering her things in a backpack, and getting ready to move. She couldn't stay, her location was compromised.

Oh shit. Rick.

She turned back to the cameras, and found Rick standing up in alarm as the soldiers(?) surrounded him.

"Hands on your head sir, hands on your head!"

"What! What have I done!"

"Nothing sir, we're performing a sweep"

"Why!"

"I can't tell you that sir. Hands on your head head sir! We'll zip tie you and, once we're done we'll release you. You have my word"

The soldiers voice was oddly baritone, probably disguised. She sighed in relief as Rick complied, putting his hands on his head. One of the commandos gently pushed him to the ground and zip tied his hands behind his back. She didn't want anyone dying today.

"All callsigns, stand clear"

The man who'd tied him down stood, cocked his gun, and shot Rick through the back of the head. Two shots, little more than coughs in the silence, and Rick jerked straight, before going limp.

She stood for a second, before cold rage flushed her.

No, anger would help no one. Cameras started beeping left and right, as first another, then two more, then four more teams began working their ways through the building, gunning down all in their way. She finished with the backpack, and slammed it on her shoulders, looking down at thse simple skirt, blouse, and flats she was wearing. They'd have to do. She snatched her needles off the desk, and eldritch energy coursed through her hands, purple sparks scouring across her desk, carving deep channels into the wood, feeding off her anger.

"Soon. There are too many for now. Too well trained"

They didn't respond. The only answer was a swelling hunger she felt deep in her gut. She watched as the teams got closer and closer to her study. She sighed, and walked over to the doors, focusing a second, eyes glowing a terrible violet. Glyphs and symbols, hidden until now, burst into flame, appearing across the walls, the ceiling, the floor. A single, brighter, more distinct rune burnt beneath her chair, by her desk, for a few seconds. Before they all disappeared, leaving the room dark once again. Yes, she could hear them now, voices and echos, footsteps and heart beats. She strolled across to the window, and pressed a hand against it. The glass shimmered, glowed, and melted, leaving a hole large enough for her to fit through.

"God, I'm going to miss this place. Oh well. Life goes on"

She looked down at the dozen stories between her and the ground. And jumped, as the door to her study slammed open.

"Blue team, on target!"

"Is the package secured?"

The pointman for the group strode into the room, his squad at his back, covering his flanks. He made his way over to the window, glancing out at the still cooling glass.

"Negative cue ball, package is gone"

"Excuse me?"

"She's gone"

"Damn. Fine, stay there. Touch nothing"

He turned, to relay the order to his group. To see Mathews,the rookie, reaching for the camera bank.

"Mathews, don't!"

He was too late, his hand made contact with the controls. And beneath the chair, the image of an orange sun glimmered to life.

Rose looked up, grinning as her study belched purple fire, shattered glass and a fine dust raining down the from the top floor of the complex. Seems someone wasn't careful where they were poking. The grin fled as quickly as it had came, as she glanced across at the warehouse. So much power, so much art.

So much beauty. Oh well, those treasures could be replaced. This one however, could not be. And due to this fact, the treasure in question, one Rose Lalonde, burst into purple fire and screamed out over the horizon, leaving the silent death and poor, unfortunate souls behind.

It was time for her to relight an old flame. She'd been meaning to pay her a visit any way.

She just wished it had been on her own terms, rather than midway through the bug out boogie.


	3. Chapter 3: The Ronin

**A/N: Hey there guys and gals, Archimedies here with the third chapter of S(uper)BURB. Hopefully this one pulls a little more traction then the others, as three chapters and no reviews is somewhat disconcerting. But pointless grousing aside, I hope you enjoy this new chapter. If you do, please be sure to drop a review on what you liked and what you thought could be better, as it is the best way of expressing how you feel about a story. Enjoy.**

Chapter 3: The Ronin.

Dave slid down the rooftop, pouncing noiselessly atop an air conditioning unit, and looked down on the warehouse. From his high perch, he watched the Midnight crew work. He gave a quick scan of the area, but could see none of the major players, only underlings and lackeys. Even they were dressed in expensive suits, presumably tailored. Pompous bastards. But their overly exquisite clothing was not what interested him most. He was more focused on the trucks that had parked in the shipping yard just a few minutes ago. He watched silently as the gangsters began removing cases and boxes from the back of each truck, and ferrying them into the large warehouse.

There was some shouting, and Hearts Boxcar came lumbering out, stopping one of the workers. Dave peered down at them, pulling a set of binoculars from his belt. He zoomed in on the case, as Hearts indicated to the mobster to open it. He gave a quiet hum as his target did so. The case contained an assault rifle, seemingly military grade, along with several clips of ammunition. Hearts picked it up and inspected it, before slipping a magazine into the well and racking the chamber, sighting up on the warehouse wall. He nodded, and handed it back to his underling, who unloaded it carefully and repackaged it, clicking shut the casing and carrying it away. Dave leant back on his haunches, as Boxcar repeated the process with several others, revealing them to be full of rifles, submachine guns, shotguns, and lightweight body armor. The crew were gearing up for something big, it seemed. But he was unsure as to what yet. Time to get his ninja on.

He slipped off of the conditioning unit, and padded his way across the roof, leaping the gap between that building and the next, and finding himself just above the wall of the compound. He gave a final glance, and leapt down, landing with barely a whisper behind a shipping container. He edged his way around it, and appeared behind one of the few guards that wasn't busy moving crates. His hand went to his blades. A shortsword known as a wakazashi was strapped to his lower back, and his katana was slung across his shoulders very carefully to avoid it shifting as he walked. After a careful moment of deliberation, he let the swords be.

Blood was always so hard to explain to his brother.

Instead, he simply crept past the mobster, passing by him, no more out of place then the man's own shadow. He made his way around the outskirts of the yard, passing by guards and creeping behind containers. He made it to the warehouse proper, and debated how to get inside. Eventually he settled on a window, which seemed to be on the second floor of the warehouse. He took a step back to get some run up, and sprinted at the wall, scrambling up it, and once his momentum was spent, flash stepping up to the window, disappearing and reappearing just close enough to grab hold of the window sill. He fumbled his lockpicks out of his pocket, and got to work. Within a minute, he had the window unlocked, and he pulled himself up just enough to look through. Within the room was a single guard, watching a camera monitor. Dave lowered himself back down, and waited. He could stay like this for quite some time, and the guard has seemed fairly restless.

His patience paid off, as he heard a conversation start. A second guard had walked into the room.

"Hey, you good?"

"Yeah, yeah, bored as shit though. No-one would even think of breaking in here"

"Well, that may have been true previously. But with those bastard Felt on the rise, we need to take precautions"

Felt? He'd never heard the name before. But if they gave the Midnight Crew the heebie jeebies, they couldn't have been good news.

"True, true. Hey, you wanna head up the roof and grab a smoke?"

"Yeah, sure. The having the head shed around is really rattelling my cage, you know? Makes me nervous"

"You're not the only one"

Dave waited until he heard a door creak closed, and reached up, opening the window and pulling himself through. The head shed, huh? So it seemed Boxcar wasn't the only higher up in attendance. He felt a trill of ice in his veins, but pushed it down. It'd do him no good to freeze up now, all he had to do was make sure he wasn't found. He didn't relish a fight, and taking on the full leadership of the Midnight Crew was not his idea of a good time. He stepped up to the moniter, and started flipping through views. Some showed rooms in the warehouse, others views of the courtyard. And a few gave an audience to the large inner space of the warehouse, were the boxes were being off-loaded. He grimaced. There they were.

Hearts Boxcar, Diamond Droog, and Clubs Deuce were sat around a table that had been set up in the middle of the space. Spades Slick stood at the head, hands splayed on its sheet metal surface. The camera didn't seem to have audio, so he decided he'd have to get closer if he wanted to find out what they were saying. Cue him sneaking his way through the inside of the warehouse, and finding his way to a set of pipes that traversed the ceiling of the warehouse. He jumped up to the pipes, and wrapped his arms and legs around them, shimmying across until he was directly above them, within earshot. He clutched onto the pipes with a grip of steel, listening intently to the conversation beneath him. Spades slammed his fist hard against the table, startling him.

"For fuck sake. What's taking so long?" Droog spread his hands in a placating gesture, a picture of calm, skinny frame held in a posture that was both relaxed and formal. A difficult combination to accomplish, but he pulled it off well. While Spades ran the gang overall, each of his underlings held a specific function. Diamond ran the financial and planning side of things, a natural fit for his analytical mindset.

"Well Spades, you'll be happy to know the only reason for the delay is that we have received even more weapons and ammunition then we hoped for. Our contact has even come through with a large amount of high quality, easily concealable body armor. A bountiful haul, if I may say so"

Spades nodded, obviously still disgruntled.

"Boxcar?"

"Yeah boss?" The burly Boxcar was in charge of arming and armouring the Crew's soldiers.

"What kinda weapons we lookin' at? And what's this about body armor?" Spades glared at his assistant as he extracted a chared dog end from behind his ear, put it to his mouth and lit it. Boxcar smiled.

"Well boss, we got a big shipment o' rifles, CAR-4 model, real good stuff. No flashy extras, just decent rifles all round. We got some shotguns too, dunno where they came from, but they're real nice. M1014's, semi auto, turn people to mince meat real quick"

"And the armor?"

"What we like to call "Second Chance" vests. Things'll stop a pretty decent sized bullet. Not too great, you'll probably end up with a couple broken ribs blocking anything bigger then a nine millimetre, but they're real cozy, easily hidden" Dave frowned as Spades flashed a shark tooth grin.

"Nice. Droog, you've really out done yourself this time, with this contact of yours" The smile was gone as quick as it came, and he grimaced. "Say, how much are all these extras gonna cost us, anyway?" A new voice rang out, certainly female, and decidedly sinister.

"Not a blessed penny, Slick"

Dave craned his neck to find the newcomer, but she seemed to be hidden in the darkness by the edges of the strage space. All the gangsters moving boxs stopped, and Dave watched as Spades' face darkened, before splitting into a snarl. He took an angry drag of his cigarette, and whipped around to face the voice, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"You! Why are you here?"

"Why, didn't your Droog tell you? I'm just here to supply you in your little...Enterprise" Spades bore down on Droog, jamming an angry finger against his chest.

"The fuck are you doing Diamond!?"

Droog raised his hands, looking shocked.

"Boss? What do you mean? The two of you know each other or something?" A chuckle came from the darkness.

"I think you'll find it's...Or something"

Spades stepped back from his underling, clenching his fist, before releasing it and turning to her.

"What's your game, dame? Why?"

"Oh Slick. Can't an old flame do you a favour?"

Old flame. Hmm. This little trip was getting more eventfull by the second. The head of the midnight crew seemed to be having trouble holding himself together.

"We both know that's not it"

"Oh, come off it Slick. You're smarter than this. I hate English just as much as you do. So if I can help your little band of bandits to undermine him in anyway, I will" Spades seemed unhappy, but satisfied with the answer. Dave let out a low breath, and began crawling across the pipes. He wanted to be out of here with plenty of time before it got light.

"Oh, and the one watching us. He one of yours?" Dave took in a sharp breath as he heard various weapons being cocked beneath him.

"No"

"Oh, well that is unfortunate. For him at least" He'd made it three quarters of the way across, when he hit a loose section of pipe. A bearing snapped with a metallic crack, and he sped up as a bullet whizzed past him. And then another. he was scrambling madly now as shots thundered around him, pinging off the pipes, or punching through them and eliciting gouts of steam.

"Well, fucking hit him then!" he looked downwards just long enough to see Spades reloading his revolver, and his cronies running to the various cases around the warehouse, presumably for weapons. The rest of the Crew were milling about nervously, seemingly unsure what to do. He didn't give them a chance to figure it out, as he jammed his feet against a brace for the pipes, and kicked off, launching himself through the warehouse window and landing with a thump on the concrete. He looked around to see he'd landed in the yard, several mobsters looking around, locking on to him and the broken glass around him. One sprinted towards him, and Dave leapt into action, dashing forward and flash stepping towards the hapless goon, slamming his knee into his chin and rolling to his feet as the man crumpled. He kept running, heading for the compound wall, and a hired gun toting a sniper rifle. He was completely oblivious to what was going on around him, wrapped up in a phone call. Dave set his sights, and sped up.

"Look dad, I'm not a crazed gunman, I'm an assassin! Yes, there is a differance-" He turned to see a Dave rushing him at high speed. Dave ran up him, feet slamming into his chest, and he jumped off, heading for the compound wall. The same moment he realized he wasn't going to make it, was the same moment a second Dave appeared out thin air and ran up the compound wall, jumping up to meet him at the height of his leap. The other Dave linked his fingers, and the primary Dave stepped down onto his hands, and was proppelled over the wall. He just had time to the clone give a salute, before disappearing as quickly as he came, in a flash of red light. Dave landed in a crouch, before sprinting for the safety of the alleyways and side streets. His thoughts buzzed with what he'd learnt, all the way back to his apartment.


End file.
